


Harlan County Diet

by dancinbutterfly



Category: Justified
Genre: (As According to Canon), Alternate Universe - Zombies, Boys In Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Is it Still Cannibalism if a Zombie Eats a Person?, M/M, Mags and Helen Know More Than You, Major Character Undeath, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Violence, Season 2, The Hills of Harlan are Wild Place, Zombie-Movie-Typical Violence, i have questions, impulse control issues, you read that right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 09:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: Boyd finds Raylan dead on the side of the road. When he wakes up? That's when the problems really start.





	Harlan County Diet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [togina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/togina/gifts).



> THIS IS ALL TOGINAS FAULT! *kisses* I adore you. Thank you for dragging me into this and being the most supportive enabler a girl could want.

Boyd Crowder is not a man that is surprised easy. Oh sure, he startles at a jump scare, same as anyone, but true surprise? The kind that rattles a fella to the bones? He thought Sandbox cured him of that. 

But when he finds Raylan Givens on the side of the road, fucking covered in thick green vomit like he just fell out of the climactic scene of the Exorcist? Well. He is surprised.

It’s a lot of vomit, is the thing here. His vast mental thesaurus lacks the proper adjective for to truly express the quantity. Vast. Tremendous. More than should be humanly possible the amount. It’s all over the dirt and grass. It coats the interior of the sedan and the entire outside, smearing the black paint into a new unrecognizable chartreuse. The scene looks like someone turned a watering hose on the area with the terrible stuff. 

There’s so much and it smells so bad that at first he doesn’t realize that Raylan is goddamn dead.

And then, well, it’s less surprise and more devastation, like the A-bomb going off. It levels everything inside Boyd in less than a second. His ears fill with the same thunderous cracking roar of a mountain imploding. His life might as well bending because Raylan. Raylan is fucking gone. How is he supposed to keep breathing if Raylan isn’t? It’s the same question he asked when he was 19 and the mine was caving in around him and his only priority was his own survival, which meant that he had to get Raylan out too.

For some reason, the fact that Raylan’s hat isn’t there - is missing, possibly untouched by this mess - is what makes this all real. Boyd is glad he decided to go on this beer run to Cumberland alone because he wouldn’t want anyone else to see him pull his long-limbed boy’s body into his arms and sob into his filthy hair like a goddamn child. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone to touch Raylan before he could.

He tightens his arms around Raylan and tries to think about how he’s going to let go. It’s a horror his brain won’t examine yet, skittering away from the very idea of releasing Raylan like a cockroach from sudden illumination. He’ll hold on for now, until someone tears his boy from his arms to put him in the ground.

Then a loud gasp, like a drowning man surfacing the skin of the water, cuts through Boyd’s awareness, throwing his awareness off kilter yet again. His face is wet and he can barely breath and Raylan is looking up at him, baffled and big-eyed and blessedly alive.

“Boyd? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh thank fucking Christ.” Boyd chokes out, dropping his forehead down to Raylan’s temple, tears leaking off his cheeks. These are new tears, tears of relief and happiness and so much gratitude to whoever saw fit to give him Raylan back.

And it is a return because pressed skin to skin, Boyd can feel how cool Raylan is. He is cool like the corpses Boyd has dropped down mine shafts and slurry ponds and doesn’t seem to be warming up. 

But he’s breathing and he’s talking and he’s alive. So Boyd isn’t about to question it. 

“Boyd, you big girl, get off me, I’m fine. I’m not a goddamn barcalounger.” Raylan turns his head so he can meet Boyd’s eyes. “Have you been crying?”

“I may have shed a tear or two when I found your lifeless body in a veritable ocean of vomit,” Boyd snaps, refusing to let go. “Excuse my emotionality. It was a moment of weakness.”

Then Raylan has the gall to fucking smile at him, huge and cheeky. “Why Boyd Crowder, I didn’t know you cared.”

Now that is a goddamn lie and they both know it. Boyd says nothing, letting it hang like they always do but Raylan surprises him, reaching to pet his cheek with one disgusting puke covered hand.

“Aw, come on. Don’t pout. You know I’m just messing with you.” Then, he grabs Boyd’s lower lip. And tugs. It is the most un-Raylan thing Raylan has ever done in the decades Boyd has known in him. He was less surprised by the death and the vomit, if he’s honest. He always expected a bad end for them after all. But this Raylan? Who is warmly teasing and physically playful? No. Just no.

“I ain’t-“ He starts, then stops. “You’re not well, Raylan. You need to get to a hospital.”

“Pfft. I’m fine. Great. Energized even.” Raylan waves him off and Boyd is outright gawking. He watches as Raylan disentangles himself from Boyd’s grip and climbs to his feet. He bounces on the balls of his feet, looking like the terrible offspring of the Flash and Swamp Thing’s from the comics they read as kids - ready to run and covered in green slime.

“Raylan.”

“You hungry?” Raylan asks. “Because I’m hungry.”

Boyd got up as well and glared Raylan down. “I’m taking you to the hospital right now. This ain’t up for debate.”

“No, it’s not, because I’m not going and that’s the end of the discussion,” Raylan declares, shaking stiffness out of his shoulders with a grace that shouldn’t be possible covered in slime. “I don’t need a hospital because I feel fantastic. What I need is a shower.” He glances around, and wrinkles his nose. “And a brave soul who is willing to put on a hazmat suit and detail my car. Sweet Jesus this is disgusting.” He taps his to a little to the left and Boyd notices a small red ball of flesh roll towards his knee. Boyd watches in horror as Raylan grins and asks, “Can you believe that all came out of me? Where’d it all fit?”

Boyd looks down at the red ball because that grin his terrifying. It’s the one Raylan had on his face before he took a bat to Dickie Bennett’s knee senior year. It’s a little feral and a little giddy and all around unsettling. On impulse, he pockets the hideous lump before joining standing as well.

“Yes, so perhaps you can understand my concern. That and your complete lack of a heartbeat and apparent departure from this mortal coil have left me quite perturbed.”

Raylan laughs at him. He laughs. And then he reaches out and- Boyd thinks he must be having a stroke because Raylan can’t be hooking his fingers in one of the front belt loops of his jeans, like he had when they were young and dumb and still burning a candle of hope. Except he is. He’s tugging Boyd forward by the waistband until their hips are snugly aligned. 

It’s repulsive but it’s also the best moment Boyd’s had in the last twenty years of his life to date because Raylan wipes his hand clean on Boyd’s sleeve and cups his cheek. “Don’t be. See? I’m here. I’m fine.” He bends over and rubs his face on Boyd’s shoulder. For a second, Boyd is confused, about to ask what he’s doing but before he can, clean lips touch his, pressing firm and closed but very very real against his. When they break apart, Raylan’s smile has turned gentle. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

If Boyd weren’t afraid before? He’s fucking terrified now.

**Author's Note:**

> The zombie rules are based on those in the Timothy Olyphant show Santa Clarita Diet. I wiggled with it here and there but mostly, I'm sticking to their rules with a hard Harlan twist. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd - forgive SPAG mistakes. I'll be checking it every time I read over it fixes are coming :D If you'd like to gently let me know if you see one, let me know.
> 
> If you want to come say hi and scream about the Harlan County boys or Gravebone or Magnificent Seven or anything really, I'm here on [tumblr](http://dancinbutterfly.tumblr.com/) and love to talk!


End file.
